


Business or pleasure

by basaltgrrl



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/pseuds/basaltgrrl





	Business or pleasure

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
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[fic](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/fic), [fic type: slash](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/fic%20type%3A%20slash), [genre: pwp](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/genre%3A%20pwp), [pairing: sam/gene](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/pairing%3A%20sam%2Fgene), [rating: brown cortina](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/rating%3A%20brown%20cortina)  
  
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**"Business or pleasure?", brown cortina, Basaltgrrl**   
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Most definitely for Porntober!

Title: Business or pleasure  
Rating: brown cortina  
Word count: 621  
Pairing: Sam/Gene

I just got to thinking about some stereotypically sexy situations, and here's the result...

Special thanks to Fawsley for being a kick-ass brit-picker.  
 

“Won’t someone notice?”  Gene leaned over to whisper.

“Not likely,” Sam whispered back, glancing up the length of the passenger compartment.  Most of the reading lights were off, seats tilted back.  It was—yes, after midnight.  They had been in the air for four hours and had been fed and plied with beverages for the first three hours of that time.  Most of the passengers were nodding off in their seats.

“I’ll go first,” Sam murmured.  “Follow me in two minutes.”

The toilet was small; no, it was genuinely tiny.  Still there would be room for two if they didn’t mind being intimate.  Sam grinned to himself.  Or if they planned to be.  A moment later there was a knock.  Gene slipped through the door and slid it shut behind him with a wary glance.

“Stewardess went forward for summat.  She didn’t even see me come in.”

“Mmm.”  Sam closed the two inch distance between them and silenced Gene with a kiss.  After a brief, enticing full-body contact he pulled back enough to dig through his pockets, and handed Gene a condom and a tube of lube.  “Let’s not take forever – she’ll notice if the door’s closed for a very long time.”

Gene nodded.  “Condom?  Really?”

“I’m the one who has to sit for another two hours post-buggering.  Don’t fancy sitting in the wet spot.”

There followed a flurry of unzipping and shifting trousers down just far enough.  Gene’s breathing was ragged; Sam felt hot, felt indecent, felt randier than he had for at least two weeks.  His cock was stiff and leaking in his hand.  Gene looked as far gone, stroking himself gently and then pressing himself against Sam.  “Turn around,” he growled.  “Against the sink.”  They shifted.  Sam heard rustling, felt a cold trickle down his crack and then a finger working it’s way in, and then Gene’s cock… not a lot of foreplay, then, but he really didn’t want it anyway.

But it hurt, the pressure against his ring of muscle, and he grunted as Gene pressed in.  “Fuck,” he whispered, and Gene worked his way in with short thrusts, a little deeper each time.  Then Sam found his rhythm and pressed back, and they were rocking oh god so tight, no room to buck and thrust but it was hot, and Sam was staring at his own face in the tiny mirror over the sink, watching the tension in his arms as he braced himself against the pressure.  Watching his own flushed face, his own mouth gasping, and Gene’s face over his shoulder as Gene stared down.  No, Gene’s eyes were closed and he seemed lost in the primal, obscene nature of the thing, almost fully clothed but thrusting and moving toward their individual ecstasies. 

Gene moved a hand from Sam’s hip to his cock and worked it to the same rhythm.  And now his eyes were staring into Sam’s, in the mirror, and he was pushing as deep as he could and mouthing some words. 

“Come for me, Sam,” he whispered through gritted teeth. 

Sam pushed into Gene’s lubricated hand, watching the shiny head of his own cock slide through Gene’s fingers, watching Gene’s face, Gene’s open mouth and wild eyes, and watching the moment when Gene’s expression moved into something almost pained.  Gene pressed deep into him and pulsed, and Sam pulsed in Gene’s hand with a noise he couldn’t quite repress, shooting his load into the sink, against the stainless surface.

They didn’t bother leaving one by one.  Still slightly disheveled, Sam followed Gene to their seats.  A minute later the stewardess walked back down the aisle, smiling as she passed them.

“So, you two nightowls!  Are you on board for business or pleasure?”

 


End file.
